


the unresolved karma

by exexlovers (orphan_account)



Category: Falsettos - Lapine/Finn
Genre: Angst, Depression, Derealization, M/M, Post-Canon, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-10
Updated: 2019-07-10
Packaged: 2020-06-25 17:04:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19750024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/exexlovers
Summary: 'the smell of scotch overpowered the smell of whizzer’s sweatshirt, which marvin had hanging off of his shoulders. the pool of grey fabric was both an always-needed comfort and an angry reminder to the non-existent life whizzer now led. the red and yellow graphics intertwined themselves on top of marvin’s chest, abrupt and racing colours.'⤷ grief is tough to handle alone. marvin is doing his best.





	the unresolved karma

If Marvin was expected to end up dead, like the love of his life, what was the point in pursuing life? What was the purpose to drinking alone and staring at the same corner of the room for hours if he was going to die? Why not end it himself? Why not avoid weeks of slow, relentless pain by combating it with quick, easy relief? 

The smell of scotch overpowered the smell of Whizzer’s sweatshirt, which Marvin had hanging off of his shoulders. The pool of grey fabric was both an always-needed comfort and an angry reminder to the non-existent life Whizzer now led. The red and yellow graphics intertwined themselves on top of Marvin’s chest, abrupt and racing colours.

Everything Marvin could see reminded him of how careless and enjoyable his life was two-and-a-half years ago. Rushing through a make-out session before his wife came home. His eyes wandering downwards every time Whizzer’s back faced him. The thrills and growth of touching and being touched. And now the void of emotion that his life was. The lights in Marvin’s apartment - it was only  _ his  _ apartment now - stayed dim, throwing dull shadows against the walls and desperate light spells towards the lifeless furniture holding tightly against the floor. Marvin let the last of his scotch slip down his throat, the bitter taste being the closest he could get to feeling anything. A plant leaned against the couch he was on, its leaves darkening in the absence of care. Whizzer was always the one who would water them, and though Marvin didn’t want anything else around him to die, he couldn’t bear to do anything that might set him into a breakdown.   
  


His hands shook as he held onto his glass as if it were the answer to everything. He studied his nails, grimacing as they reminded him that Whizzer wanted to paint his own nails one day. The empty glass acted as his life. Devoid of anything, full of space, something he clung onto despite it never doing anything in his favour.

Marvin could almost sense someone at his door as he hesitated pouring himself another glass. He side-eyed the dark blue wood down the hall, waiting for it to make a noise. The designs on the sides of his glass left imprints in his palm as he sipped it. 

The layout of the apartment soon changed after Whizzer died. The couches backed against the wall and the dining table was shoved into the corner. No sense in making the second chair accessible; there was no one to sit there anymore.

Three quick knocks sounded throughout the walls. Marvin finished his gulp of scotch and forced himself off of the couch cushions, shuffling in the direction of the door. He absently wondered how much had changed while he was away from the outside world. How many more people had died of Whizzer’s illness? Were the doctors and scientists making any progress towards some form of support to this disease? Would there be any form of avengement for those who had to watch their loved ones die of something they were completely powerless against? Was there a point to continue on?

Another knock at the door made him walk faster. “Yes, I’m coming. God.” Marvin’s voice sounded detached from his body, like it wasn’t real. Like he was moving his mouth but the noises were coming from some indeterminate higher power. He tugged the door open, struggling to identify the person who now stood in front of him. Nothing felt real.

“Hi.” The voice of the person in front of him was tentative and small. “Wanted to check on you. Can I come in?”

Identification clicked in his head.  _ Trina. _ That’s who it was. God, and she wanted to ‘check on’ Marvin. He was almost enjoying his well-earned, one-person pity party. Almost.   
  


“Marvin?”

His eyes focused suddenly, the clouds dissolving. Trina held a velvet bag in her hand, the crushed purple complementing the deep blue of her pants. Her hair was half-up, brown waves held up by a yellow scrunchie tumbling down her shoulders.

“Can I come in?” she repeated, making eye contact with him.

Marvin looked away, gently clearing his throat. “...Yeah. Sure.”

Trina took the door from him, stepping inside and pushing it shut. She leaned against it for a moment, scanning the blazers tossed on top of chairs and the scary lack of dishes inhabiting the sink. Marvin retreated back to his spot on the couch, sitting cross-legged and rubbing his thumb and index finger against the cuff of his sleeve. Trina flipped her hair off of her shoulder, settling onto the edge of the armchair facing him.

“I used to get mad at Whizzer for sitting there.” Marvin muttered, indulging in the bitter flavour of his drink another time. He ran his fingers in circles over the glass, staring at the orange liquid calling his name.

Trina stiffened. “Do you want me to move?”   
  


Marvin continued the circles. “Yeah, please.”

She got up and sat beside him, placing her hand on his thigh. He straightened his leg, remembering the many contexts where Whizzer would put his hands there.

“Sorry.” he whispered. “Almost everything reminds me of him.” A shaky breath made its way through his body.

Trina put her hands in her lap, her doleful brown eyes searching Marvin’s face. It occurred to him how captivatingly beautiful she was. He thought about kissing her for one horrifying, fleeting second.

Jesus, he was not in a healthy state of mind. He set his glass down, putting his face in his hands and massaging his eyebrows. Trina swirled patterns on his back as he leaned forward.

“Is that okay?” Her voice was soft, still tentative.

Marvin nodded, feeling tears prick the back of his eyes. Why was he crying  _ now? _ Out of nowhere? Two seconds ago he had felt numb. What had suddenly changed? What was the point of crying? He sat straighter, Trina resting her hand on his shoulder.

He glanced over at her, barely locking eyes. “Why?”

Trina tilted her head to the side, her eyes growing more emotional. “Why what?”   
  


“Just why? That’s my whole question.”

“Well, there are multiple answers to-”   
  


“Why Whizzer? What did he do to deserve that? What are the chances? Why not me?” he stuttered. “What- why? Why, Trin?”

Trina took a deep breath. “I can’t answer those, Marvin. I don’t know any more than you do.” she paused, keeping her mouth open. She reached for Marvin’s face, forcing him to look at her. “We miss him too. You’ve got the worst end of the grief, but we’re here too. We understand what you’re feeling.”

Marvin leaned back, threading his fingers through his hair and nodding. “Delia brought me cookies the other day. They’re in the freezer; any time I eat I think about how Whizzer couldn’t keep anything down. You can bring some to Jason. How is he?”   
  


Trina considered the question. “He’s surviving. Mendel is with him. He’s having a hard time playing chess without the king and it upsets him.”   
  


The image of Whizzer’s grave floated into his head. His chest felt heavy as a dry sob broke through his emotionless settlement.

“Sorry…” Trina whispered. She stood up and opened the curtains overlooking Marvin’s balcony. He swiped at a tear trailing down his cheek, squinting at the flood of light. Whizzer had forced him to buy flowers a few days before he died. The pink roses rested on the coffee table, drinking in the sunlight and hanging onto life. Trina scooped up Marvin’s scotch bottle, leaving the remnants that sat in his glass. The sink turned on, and she came back in with a cup of water. She offered it to Marvin, who drank half of it in one gulp.

“Thanks.” He shivered in Whizzer’s sweatshirt, dragging the decorative couch blanket overtop his body. It didn’t do much in terms of insulation, but Whizzer had thought it would look good in the apartment and so he bought it.

Trina sat back down with her legs to the side. “Is there anything else I can do? Maybe you should try to get something into your stomach.” Her maternal instincts were cranked to full potential, Marvin simply pulling his legs up to his chest and shrugging.

“Yeah, I don’t know. I’m sorta fucked up right now, if you hadn’t realized.” Marvin’s unruly curls mirrored his unruly heart, scattering over his forehead.   
  


“I’ve realized.” Trina noted gently.

Marvin pressed the sleeve of Whizzer’s sweatshirt to his face, inhaling his scent. His view of the room was considerably more detailed now that it was light. A My Fair Lady Playbill sat on the edge of the television shelf. He and Whizzer went to see the show before he got sick. The Playbill used to hang above the TV, along with other shows. Broadway was too much now. He never passed those streets. He couldn’t stand to look at it without being reminded of how happy he used to be.

Living was so difficult. He couldn’t even breathe without thinking of Whizzer.

“I miss him, Trina.” Marvin blew out a breath. “I want to kiss him again. Hold his hand one more time. Cuddle him in bed for one more hour.” he looked back at her, searching her face for permission to talk about Whizzer romantically. Trina just waited, sorrow animating her face. She stretched out her arm, wiping away tears that poured down Marvin’s face.

He didn’t know he had started crying. He took Trina’s hand from his face, holding it and placing them on the couch. “The apartment is so cold and empty without him. I look at his clothes still hanging in our closet and think about how none of it would’ve fit him when he died. Did you know Char said the disease gave him memory loss? Do you think he remembered the good days where I would actually hear him laugh? I was terrified to leave the hospital room, Trin. I read his record, Charlotte had noted depressive episodes and thoughts. Sometimes he would just stare into space with a blank look on his face.”   
  


Marvin could feel the tears dripping onto the grey fabric now. He took a trembling breath, flicking his hair off of his face. “He would snap out of it if I rubbed his arm or something but sometimes I would only watch him. Wondering what he was thinking about. Wondering  _ if _ he was thinking.” he reached for his scotch, chugging the rest of it. Trina pulled her hand away to tighten her ponytail. 

They looked at each other for a moment. Marvin wiped his eyes and tightened the blanket over his body. Trina fiddled with the velvet bag she held.

“I had a fever the other day.” Marvin kept his gaze trained on the seam between the wall and ceiling in front of him. “It was terrifying. Thought I was getting sick. Like, not just a bug, I thought I was starting to show his illness. Charlotte told me to be prepared. That doesn’t mean the prospect of death isn’t horrifyingly scary.”

Trina silently wiped a tear from her face.

“Of course I miss Whizzer. Of course I want to see him again. But I don’t want to deteriorate in a hospital bed. I wanted to grow old with Whizzer. I wanted to adopt a cat with him and take Jason to baseball practice with him and spend every waking second with him. I don’t want to have to need assistance to take a few steps. I don’t want to eat only ice chips for days. I don’t want to watch you all watch me with sadness in your eyes. I want a life. I just wanted it with Whizzer. So if I’m going to die anyways, why not do it myself? Give myself some sort of grace?”

A sob interrupted Marvin’s thinking out loud. He looked away from the ceiling to Trina, his anger softening as he took in her expression.

“Oh, Trina. I’m sorry.” he took her hand again. All of his emotions suddenly simplified. The grief fell to the back of his mind. The frustration melted as he realized the weight of his words. “I’m sorry. I can’t say I don’t mean it, but I wasn’t looking to cause you more pain.”

Trina nodded, her hair falling in front of her shoulders again. She looked down at the bag in her hand, rubbing her thumb over the velvet. “Um, Jason had the idea and Mendel and I helped him.” she pulled her hand away and opened the drawstring, looking inside before handing it to Marvin.

He took it, staring at the fabric for a moment. The purple contrasted the grey of his sleeves. A breeze of Whizzer’s scent hit him again. He reopened the bag and poured the contents into his palm. 

A necklace settled into his hand, a black cord supporting a muted silver pendant. He held the pendant in his free hand. It was a chess piece. The king, to be specific. The same piece Jason had rested on top of Whizzer’s headstone.

Marvin looked up at Trina, shocked.

A shy, tearful smile graced her face. “A token of Whizzer’s life. So you don’t wear down the smell of his clothes too fast and you can keep him close to you in other ways.”

Tears spilled over his cheeks again. “I… Thank you, Trina. Tell Mendel and Jason I’m never taking it off.”

Trina looked down, still smiling. She smiled more often than he did.

Marvin pulled it over his head, the silver seeming to combine perfectly with the grey of his shirt. He twisted the king in his hand, the chilled metal soothing the shakiness of his fingers. “Thank you.” he repeated. “This means so much to me. You have no idea.”

“You’re welcome.” she whispered. The couch shuffled as Trina turned to face him more. “Maybe you can come see your family more often. Of your own initiative.”

They had had this exact conversation around the same time he and Whizzer had started getting in contact more often. The parallel made a smile twitch at his mouth. “I’m getting better, Trin. I might eat those cookies Cordelia brought if you don’t take them all.” 

He compared the dull, numb shell of a person he had been an hour ago to the spark of light that sat inside of him now. “That’d be nice. Visiting, I mean. I’ll try.”

Trina grinned, her ponytail flopping to the side. “I’ll go grab those. Heat one up for you.”

The phantom smile still hovered over his mouth. He drank the rest of his water and got up with her. A flicker of grief came back to him as he looked at his barren fridge, the mementos and reminders of Whizzer’s life pulled off and shoved into a drawer somewhere. 

Soon it was back to being alone in the dark with his thoughts, but for now, Marvin would do his best to grab a hold on happiness again. He would rip his nails apart clinging onto smiles and laughter. He would wonder what they felt like while he knew they existed. He was trying.

**Author's Note:**

> trina: hi, marvin  
> marvin: whizzer used to call me that.  
> trina: ...because that's your fucking name.
> 
> (i'm sorry)


End file.
